Four seconds.
She inhaled deeply through her nose and blew the hot air out of her mouth slowly.
Go.
The enemy squad was assaulted with a barrage of micro-projectiles from two different angles. The team formed up quickly and began laying suppressive fire.
They were good.
The enemy squad couldn't tell where the shots were coming from, but each man picked an arc of fire and covered the area with practiced efficiency.
Ariana was forced to duck behind a large fountain in order to not get sawed in half by the aggressive weapons fire. She waited for a few beats behind the concrete of the fountain. She wasn’t sure if she had given her position away or not.
She closed her eyes, tensing for the barrage undoubtedly heading her way. The sound of gunfire made her jump, but she realized it was coming from across the open court. She peeked around to see Gunny laying cover. Ariana seized the moment.
She leaned around the fountain, sighting down her rifle's barrel. She tracked the enemy with her rifle and, collecting her breath, squeezed the trigger. A volley of micro-bullets spat toward the squad of men. The troops began firing in wild desperation as they realized they were caught in a crossfire they couldn't win.
As the last enemy fell, Gunny keyed her comm, “Roman, talk to us.”
“Great work on the breaching squad. Unfortunately, that's just the head of the comet. You've got a large force moving in, quickly.”
“Roger. You won't do us much more good from in there. Grab your rifle and head to the roof. You're the best long-range shot of the three of us. Pulaski and I will move into corridors to form a bottleneck.”
“Roger that boss-man...lady. Ma'am.”
“Roman, it seems your comm is picking up some sort of moronic cross-chatter, see to that.”
Two affirmative clicks sounded on the comm. Ariana smiled at the banter. She clicked her comm twice in response to the order and moved back toward the compound.
Ariana slipped back to the service door she had come through and ran into a major problem: the door was locked from the inside. She turned around to assess her options and saw the remaining enemy platoon pouring through the gates, weapons at the ready. She exhaled sharply. Think of something.
She analyzed the area, but came up dry. She reminded herself not to panic. She slipped slowly backward into the shadows and clicked her comm three times.
“What's the trouble, Pulaski?” Gunny was instantly on the comm.
Ariana clicked her comm three more times.
“That bad, huh? Roman, can you see anything?”
“Just got to the roof. Looks like... oh sh...yoot. She’s stuck outside. I guess that door is locked from the inside. And charlie has already moved inside the walls,” Roman sounded nervous. “Oh man, if they fire up thermal, she's toast.”
“I’ll try and make my way through the building and get to her. If anything happens, you lay down cover and see her through, okay?” Gunny barked the order and clicked her comm off.
Ariana couldn't calm her nerves. She made herself as small as she could, but she wasn't confident. She eyed the enemy team as they systematically worked through the open courtyard. They moved silently, rifles held stiffly up to their shoulders, pivoting with machine-like precision to scan the area.
She jumped when she heard an explosion somewhere to her right. She checked the team status, green across the board. Gunny broke in over the comms, out of breath.
“They breached! They've breached the back of the building. The other team must've been a diversion!” Gunfire covered the comms drowning out Gunny's report. “I... hold them... too many... get the...” The garbled message made Ariana's heart sink. If the firefight was that heated...
The team in front of her broke out into a brisk jog, heading for the interior of the building. She knew there were prox mines that way, it was only a matter of time. She held her breath and tightened her grip on her weapon.
The first mine erupted into a hot flash and Ariana exploded into action. From the rooftop to her right, Roman mounted his long gun on a bipod and began picking off troops. He would need cover.
She burst from the shadows, weapon spewing a relentless cascade of projectiles into the enemy troops. Half of the squad stopped and turned, forming a tight semicircle and concentrated their fire. The other half retreated into the building and after a short moment were met with more explosions as the deeper prox mines were triggered.
Ariana and her team might just stand a chance.
“…caught... crossfire... can't...” Gunny's comm interrupted through static and percussive gunfire.
An alert sounded in Ariana's helmet, she checked the team status, already knowing what she would find. Gunny's lifeline indicator was solid red. They had lost her. Now what?
Roman continued to take shots at the men on the ground, but the enemy was spraying his area with a hailstorm of return fire. Ariana moved on the men, shooting wildly at them. She hoped to distract them just long enough to give Roman a window.
If we can't walk out of here, we'll take as many of them with us as we can, she thought bitterly as she took cover behind a stone bench and changed mags.
“There's a word for this situation, Pulaski,” Roman said sardonically. Ariana could sense the fatalism in his voice. “I'm not going to say it, in memory of Gunny. But just remember, kid, we'll always have Paris.”
Ariana couldn't help but smile. Even now, he made jokes and twentieth century movie references. They would die today, but they wouldn't lose their spirit. She keyed her comm.
“See you on the other side, boy scout.”
She rolled out from her hiding place and squeezed the trigger. Roman leaned over the roof and doused the area in precision fire. They were vastly outnumbered, but they could still take some with them. She zigzagged across the yard toward the troops, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Her breath choked when she noticed the gunfire from the rooftop had ceased. She looked up just in time to see Roman's limp body slip from the parapet and tumble down into the court behind the men. One of the enemies in front of her pulled something out of a pack and threw it toward her. She watched it, as if in slow motion, tumble through the air. The instant it made contact with the ground, her entire world erupted into a bright flash. Then came the darkness. The sound of gunfire faded away, and she found herself wanting to sleep.
***
“Gentle!” a muffled voice said, “Would you listen to me? I said, gentle. We've never caught one alive.”
“Whatever. She's a grunt, what's a broken bone or two, anyway?” a second voice responded.
The second voice shrieked in pain.
“I don't know, you tell me,” the first voice was speaking again, “What's a broken bone or two?”
“Ow, let go, you jackal. She's all yours,” after a few seconds, there was the sound of a door shutting.
“Okay, just you and me now,” the first voice said. It was no longer muffled, but now stern.
Ariana opened her eyes and looked into the sharp features of a man wearing a black suit. His blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her.
“Well. Hello there,” the man in the suit said casually. He sat down in a chair next to her bed, and propped his feet up on the end of her mattress causing Ariana to wince.
“Where am I?” Ariana asked, her breath shallow. Broken ribs. “And why am I not dead?”
“Relax. We just need to talk.”
“About what?” Ariana said defiantly, “You know more about us than we know about you. You've been visiting us for centuries. What could I possibly tell you?”
“So it is true,” he said, shaking his head. “You know, I never actually believed it until now.”
“Believed what?”
“You really do believe it don't you?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ariana said, still bristling with defiance.
“I’m sure,
” the man said calmly, leaning forward. “You think you're human, don't you?”
What? There must be some sort of misunderstanding. The other ODMs must have found her and thought she was a clone. An alien. She struggled against her restraints.
“No, you don't understand,” she pleaded, “I'm human. Lance Corporal Ariana Pulaski, OD15-614-889, ODM.”
“Cute,” the man responded, “Tell me this, what's your earliest childhood memory?”
“My what?"
“Let me guess, yellow dress? Bunny rabbits? Tire swing and dear, old dad?”
Ariana was so confused, “How could-”
“Better believe it. We got that transmission, too,” the man said without emotion. “It was our first tip that they were conditioning their clones, you, to believe that you're really human. They give you an implant,” he gestured to an X-Ray image on a lightbox showing an implant embedded deep in someone's skull. “Then they send you memories and whatever else they want you meat bags to think. Presumably, you dream about them and wake up to believe they're real.”
“That's not...” Ariana couldn't even accept the possibility.
The man followed her eyes to the X-Ray, “Oh yeah, that's you, ‘lance corporal,’ you've got a walkie-talkie in your noggin, and you were born in a tube. Wild, isn’t it? Your bosses up there,” he gestured at the roof, “Create you guys in an assembly line and ship you out here to slaughter us, and you’re just as convinced that we’re the bad guys. Ge’ez. And can you believe all the social justice groups out there rousing support for the clones, claiming your souls are just as valuable as natural-borns. Myself, I’m tired of the political talking heads arguing the rights these clones might have and whether killing our own people was the right answer. Our people. Pfft.”
“I’m not a clone,” Ariana insisted.
“Look, I’m not judging you, any more than I judge a dog for chewing my shoes. But the proof is in the pudding.”
“I… I don't know what to think,” Ariana stammered, her voice shaking.
“Oh, I believe you,” the man replied. He stood up, put a hat on and opened the door. He turned and looked back at her with a detached expression. “Do you know what I did with the last dog to chew my shoe? I put him down.”
He flipped the light switch off, and closed the door, plunging Ariana into complete darkness.
About the Author
C. Scott Frank is an author, blogger, designer, animator and all around nerd. He co-authored Frosthammer, a novelette released in March of 2017. He writes about parenting, faith, and fostering with his wife, Hailee at afrankvoice.com.
You can connect with C. Scott Frank on Twitter (@C_ScottFrank), Facebook (Facebook.com/CScottFrank) or his website (www.cscottfrank.com).
If you enjoyed this short story, please leave a quick review, it sounds small, but every little bit helps!
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